


It's A Wonderful Life

by PilDoor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Business man Castiel, Butt Plugs, CEO Castiel, Chapter 2 is just porn, Dom/sub Undertones, First Meetings, Fluff, Handcuffs, Hate to Love, Jealous Castiel, Kinda, M/M, No smut in chap 1, Office Sex, Top Castiel, business man dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:01:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7312381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PilDoor/pseuds/PilDoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has an important interview and his day starts out at rock bottom and only gets worse. But then it gets better.</p><p>This is probably more of a 'verse, fyi..</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean pops the top button on his pressed button-down. There's no reason to button it until he gets to the building where the interview is being held anyway, right? Not when it's this uncomfortable.

He slides his phone out of his pocket while pushing the door to Starbucks open with his shoulder, just to make sure he’s still on schedule. He doesn’t get to see the time though, because the door is met with resistance and he can only watch while his phone flips out of his hand and, as if in slow motion, twists in the air, headed right for the curb before bouncing onto the side of a well-trafficked road. 

He groans but the swearing from the man he had opened the door into overpowers the sound. Dean finally turns around. The man is there, he’s in a suit that’s obviously expensive and obviously ruined by a large coffee stain covering most of the pristinely white button-down and jacket. And based on the swearing he ain’t happy about it. Dean didn’t expect him to, who _likes_ having coffee spilled on them? But he’d hoped that he could just apologize and be on his way. He only has six minutes to spare at the coffee shop.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean says and goes for his phone. It’s in the gutter and he can already see the billions of cracks in the screen, the sun reflecting off each of them, blinding Dean with somewhat of a kaleidoscope. 

“This has to be an example of the universe’s sense of humor,” a dark and gravelly voice says sourly. Dean feels it in his groin, but he doesn’t have time for this right now. “I’m sending you the dry cleaning bill for this.”

Dean finally looks at the man, absentmindedly wiping gravel off his phone. He gets distracted by the sheer force of blue eyes and pink lips, and that’s before he notices the ruffled ebony bed-head. He deters. “Are you for real? Should I send you the bill for a new phone then?”

“This is your fault. Had I had the time I would have made you buy me another coffee. I’ll settle for your number so I can call you about the dry-cleaning. Or your email.”

“You can fuck right off. If I’d had the time I woulda kicked your ass!” He has always had a temper, but really? What good’s gonna come from threatening the guy. Dean's such an idiot. He glares at him, refusing to acknowledge how the sun shines on his hair, making it look all silky.

The guy glares back, then pulls a card out of his inner jacket-pocket. It’s stained with coffee that has soaked through the fabric, “I’ll expect you to contact me about reimbursing me,” he says without reserve, like he already knows he’s gonna get his way. Dean has always responded well to that tone, that’s why he got kicked out of high school for fooling around with a teacher. Luckily he wasn’t the only one to do it with professors in college. He accepts the card. The attractive and bossy man leaves, sending Dean one last scowl before sliding into the back seat of an expensive car.

He presses the button on his phone. Nothing happens. It keeps shining a myriad of flashes at him from the spiderweb of cracks. He tips his head back and groans, there’s definitely no time for coffee now. Not being clear on time he runs for the subway, struggling to get out of his suit jacket without dropping his briefcase as he goes. He stamps his card for entrance and makes the subway at the last second, nearly getting his jacket caught in the doors.

He checks the time on the subway’s clock and breathes a sigh of relief that he’s still on time. He presses the button on his phone again. And again. About ten more times, then he groans and slips it into the outer pocket of his briefcase.

The attractive asshole has Dean frazzled. As if he wasn’t nervous enough. He’d quit his job back in Kansas City to come out to San Diego to be closer to Sam and a lot was depending on the interview he was on his way to. It was the only one he had lined up at the moment, on Charlie’s recommendation. He closed his eyes and pinched his nose. Sam had said something about deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. He doesn’t have the patience for it and ends up tapping Enter Sandman against his thigh with his fingers.

He checks the time once more before getting off at his station. He has time enough that he doesn’t have to run, thank god. He couldn’t show up to that godforsaken interview if he got any sweatier than he already was. 

In front of the gigantic building with the Adler-Novak Enterprises logo he stops for a second and looks up. It towers over him and he feels incredibly small. 

“Alright Winchester,” He muses under his breath, “You can do this. You’re good at this. You know how to charm people and you’re qualified. You can do this. Afterwards, you can go home and shower, and then there’s that date and maybe you’ll even get lucky tonight. Just focus on that.” He frowns at himself then. Probably not a good idea to think about potential sex when you're at an interview? He shakes his thoughts off and enters through the double glass doors.

“Hello. Dean Winchester, here for an interview,” he smiles at the pretty brunette behind the counter.

She looks over a list, “Winchester, Win- There!” He crosses his name off it, “The interviews are up on seventh floor. Here’s a guest pass for the elevator.” He’s handed a square of hard plastic, attached to a neck keychain. 

“Thank you,” He leans forward to read her name tag, “Meg.” A flash of pearly whites and Meg raises a suggestive eyebrow. His nerves settle a little in his stomach, he’ll be fine.

They flare back up during the elevator ride. The contraption is made of glass so he can see the floor getting further and further away as he ascends. And it keeps stopping, people getting on and off at every floor. His fingers are slippery around the handle of his briefcase. They’re finally on the seventh floor and he has to shove at quite a crowd to get out. He stumbles through and the elevator leaves a second later. He buttons the top-button of his shirt, feeling the damp sweat of his neck. He hopes it isn’t too visible. Or that it can be written off at being due to California heat.

He doesn’t know where to go next. There’s a carpeted hallway straight ahead in front of him, and one leading right. He’s never done anything straight so he walks down the other hallway. There are voices there, getting louder with each step.

He peeks through the first open door, where the voices are coming from. There’s a small tag on it, naming it ‘Break Room’.

There’s a counter with a sink and a fridge to one side and a couple of tables, crowded with lunching workers.

“Dean!” someone squeals and he catches Charlie waving from her seat on top of a table.

“Hey,” he grins weakly. He knows he’s probably pale right now.

“Have you already been interviewed?”

“Nah,” he glances at the clock above the microwave, “I’m due in fifteen minutes.”

Charlie nods, “They’re being held down the other hallway. Just straight ahead from the elevator, it’s the third door on the right. There should be a sign that says ‘interviews’ on it.”

“Thanks!” he waves and leaves before she can say anything else. 

He’s happy to have her. Lucky too. They’ve been friends since college and she was the only one he knew in San Diego other than Sam. So far she’d gotten him this interview _and_ a blind date later in the evening.

He finds the right door easily enough and he takes a seat in a clear plastic chair across from it, next to four other sweaty interviewees. 

After a few minutes of tapping more Metallica silently on his thigh, the door opens and a red-haired woman looks out, “Garth Fitzgerald IV?” she asks and her eyes sweep across all five of them. A scrawny, but enthusiastic dude jumps up.

“That would be me, ma’am!”

She smiles tight-lipped at the title. Dean takes note of that.

Some time passes and Dean has moved on to tapping the songs with his foot, practically stomping the floor. Dun-dun-dun, he nods his head in tiny movements, then stops and frowns when someone adds duns that shouldn’t be there. He looks up, and immediately stills all his limbs. He gulps, once.

It’s that guy, jacket still coffee-stained but shirt changed out for a pastel pink one. He doesn’t exactly look happy about it. He’s scowling as he walks down the hallway, eyes on a smartphone he has in one hand, a styrofoam cup of something steaming that Dean bets is coffee in the other. He must feel Dean staring, because he is. He really is. The man looks up, wide blue eyes meeting wide green ones at first, before they turn to slits of blue. He stops a few steps from Dean, “You.”

Dean bites his lip and refrains from hiding his face in his hands or making a run for the elevator. Then he flashes a charming, albeit apologetic smile. (The one that gets him away with cheesy pick-up lines and late returns of loaned items). He opens his mouth to say something, anything, he’ll figure it out as he goes, but then the door is opened again. The scrawny man steps out, does a double-take at the coffee-stained, dark-haired man.

“Mr. Novak,” he nods at him. The man, Novak, nods back, eyes still on Dean.

The red-haired woman comes to the rescue as she opens the door just two seconds after, calling “Dean Winchester,” eyes on an iPad.

Dean springs up and makes an awkward nod-smile-wave combination as he passes the Novak-man and practically springs into the safety of the interview room.

The girl looks up, “Ca- Mr. Novak! How are you?”

Dean catches him nodding from behind the girl’s shoulder. “Well, thank you. And you?”

“Yes, the interviews are looking very promising. Only four more left.”

Mr. Novak nods again. 

“I see you switched shirts with Balthazar after your near-death experience at Starbucks,” she’s teasing him, that much is clear. The attractive, bossy man briefly meets Dean’s eyes and he… Looks sheepish? 

“Yes. Well. I have work to do, and I’m sure you need to get on with your interviews.” He starts walking with another nod at the redhead and one last look at Dean.

The woman leans out of the doorway to call after him, “If I don’t see you again, good luck with your date tonight!” Mr. Novak practically jogs off.

She closes the door and smiles at Dean, “Hello Dean. I’m Anna, I’m the supervisor of the IT branch.” She walks towards a half-full pot of coffee, “You want coffee?”

“Please,” he nods, still a little distracted. He takes a seat in the chair in front of the desk and Anna places the filled cup in front of him before taking her seat behind the desk. She pulls up Dean’s application.

“So, do you have any questions before we begin?”

Dean wipes his sweaty hands on his pants, “Uhm, well. Just, who is Mr. Novak?”

Anna smiles up at him, “He’s the co-CEO. He can seem like a bit of a hard-ass but he’s a sweetheart.” She stifles a giggle, “Someone made him spill his coffee this morning and he’s been pissy about missing out on Starbuck’s French vanilla since he got in. Can you believe it? Such a diva.” She doesn’t mean anything mean by it, Dean can tell by the way she grins teasingly despite the man’s absence. Dean blushes.

“If that’s all, let’s go ahead and get started. Charlie brought your name up, she has a lot of nice things to say about you.”

“Yeah, we went to college together,” Dean tells her.

She nods, “Well, your references look great. You did something similar to this position back in Kansas?”

Dean confirms and she asks what brings him to California.

It feels like a normal conversation, probably because Anna is so casual about it, and Dean stops sweating and doesn’t even overthink his answers and before he knows it, he’s out the door with a promise of an email, instead of the usual phone call, the next day to let him know about the position. He’s feeling good as he leaves the building, his only worry being that Novak will tell Anna not to hire the idiot that made him spill his French vanilla latte.

\-------

 

Dean gets home with plenty of time to spare before his date. He takes a shower, and he would have liked to call Sam and Charlie, but spends a little while searching for his wristwatch before getting dressed.

Charlie told him to meet his date at some casual restaurant downtown at 7, and Dean would have liked his phone for directions but quickly gets them from a city map he’d picked up at the train station when he'd arrived a few days ago. He puts on a pair of jeans without holes and a tightness to his ass, a t-shirt and an open plaid button-down over it, and quickly styles his hair.

He looks good, and if there’s anything he does better than computers, it’s dating. The lack of contact with his brother and his friend has him nervous though, and he ends up leaving way too early, with the mental argument that it’s better than pacing the little floor-space of his apartment.

It’s a Greek place, small and intimate with a live band, and Dean admires Charlie’s choice while he stands in line to talk to the receptionist.

“Hey,” he smiles at the blonde girl when it’s his turn, “Uh party of two, I think it’s under Bradbury?”

The girl smiles distantly, clearly distracted by the busy-ness of the place, “Ah, yes. Follow me.” She takes off and Dean hurries after her, “You’re companion isn’t here yet.”

“Nah, I’m a little early.”

The girl smiles, amusement clear in her eyeliner-covered eyes, “First date?”

Dean takes a seat, “Blind first date.”

The girl grins knowingly, “Do you want to order drinks? I’m Claire, by the way, I’m gonna be your waitress this evening.”

Dean looks over the wine card. He knows nothing about wine, but Charlie had said his date liked the stuff, “No, I don’t wanna risk it.”

She leaves and Dean spends a few minutes tearing up a napkin, before she returns with his blind date. Dean looks up, smiling invitingly, only to have it freeze right on his face, as the man behind Claire is attractive, bossy, co-CEO Novak. He gets up quickly, barely catching his chair as it starts to tip over.

“Ca-Castiel?” he asks insecurely. Fuck.

Castiel nods, expression unreadable and pulls his chair out.

Dean huffs an awkward laugh, “Uh, if you wanna cancel the date, I- uh- I’d understand.”

Castiel sits down and nods at Dean’s chair, making him take his seat as well, “It’s hardly ideal, but if you’re half as great as Charlie says, I think we should at least give it a chance.”

Dean gets over himself. He knows how to date, for fuck’s sake! “Start over?" he suggests earnestly, "I’m really not that much of a prick. I’ll pay for your dinner?” he grins. 

It earns him a chuckle from the other man, “Only if you let me pay for yours.”

Dean chuckles too, “I’m sorry about this morning. I heard it was quite the catastrophe to make you miss out on Starbuck’s French vanilla latte.”

“Ah, no, I overreacted. I admit, I’ve been nervous about this date all day.” Dean is pretty sure Castiel actually fucking blushes, but it’s hard to tell in the candlelight.

“Waste of nerves, huh? Turns out to be the asshole that ruined your morning.” He tries to smile with confidence, but he’s pretty sure he fucked up both this date and his potential position at the company 9 hours ago.

“I’m not so sure,” Castiel smiles shyly, and Dean recognizes that look. He definitely has one foot in the door. He feels a little giddy. 

\------

Dean gets untangled from Egyptian cotton sheets and Cas’ limbs and swings his legs out of bed, digging his toes into the thick fur of the rug on the floor. He rubs a knuckle into his eye and tries not to wince at the dull ache in his backside. Been a long time since he’s been fucked like that. He has rugburns and sore wrists.

He starts to get up but a muffled gravelly whine from under the blanket makes him reconsider and he sends a smile over his shoulder at the tuft of dark hair and the one hand stretched from under the blanket, reaching for Dean. He crawls back up the bed and lies down mostly on top of the other man and whispers against his unruly bird’s nest of hair, “Can I borrow your laptop? Or any device with Wi-Fi? I gotta check my email.”

There’s some rearranging and squinty blue eyes stare up at Dean. Dean feels like putty and he smiles all soft. “Right now?”

Dean lifts one side of the blanket to snuggle into Cas’ warmth, “Anna was going to email me about the interview.”

Castiel leans out, one arm emerging from his little nest, to grab his phone from the night desk, “I’ll call her. Siri, call Anna Milton.” He enunciates the last part, a tell-tale sign that Siri has screwed him over more than once. Dean grins, what a dork.

“Goodmorning, Mr. Novak. How are you?” Anna’s tinny voice sounds in the room. Cas pulls the phone from the charger and brings the phone in between Dean and himself.

“I’m fantastic. How are you?”

There’s a teasing smile on Anna’s voice, “I take it your date went well?” Castiel blushes and Dean bites a knuckle to not laugh out loud.

Castiel clears his throat, “Yes, erm, certainly. Not what I called for. Have you decided who you will offer the position?”

“Yes! Actually I was just going to call you to run it by you. I know you didn’t meet any of them, but I think Dean Winchester would be perfect. Charlie Bradbury referred him and he has a really great resume and references.” Dean fist pumps and Cas huffs a laugh despite the phone call.

“That sounds good, Anna.”

“Wait, where are you? I thought you’d be in your office?”

“I’m still at home.” Castiel admits, worrying his lower lip despite the fact that _he_ is _Anna’s_ boss, not the other way around.

The teasing is back on her voice, “Oh, the date went that well, did it? Tell me, did he do that thing-“

“I’m hanging up, Anna!” Castiel yelps desperately. Dean muffles a laugh into the pillow. 

There’s a gasp on the other end of the line, “Is he still there?!”

“Yes. Uhm, please tell Meg that I won’t be in until after lunch.”

“Cas! Good for you! I’ll just email Winchester real quick and then I’ll talk to Meg.”

Cas clears his throat again, “You don’t have to email Dean…”

There’s some silence and Dean can practically hear the cogs turning in Anna’s mind through the phone, “Wait- He isn’t- he isn’t _there_ , is he?!”

Castiel looks up at Dean and bites his lower lip.

“Hey Anna,” Dean grins and Castiel cracks a smile.

Anna squeals until Castiel hangs up with a wince at the volume. He puts the phone away again and nuzzles closer to Dean, pressing a lazy, closed-mouth kiss to his lips.

“Congratulations on your new job.”

“Thanks. Wanna tie me up with some of your ties again to celebrate?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month in, Dean is settled with the company. And Castiel is settled in Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is PURE smut.

There’s a ping of another message and Dean twirls around in the office chair, away from the stunning view of San Diego during dusk that Cas’ office supplies. Stunning, despite his fear of heights. Castiel’s office is on the top-most floor. His bare thighs squeak against the leather of the chair. 

He leans forward as much he can until the metal scrapes against his wrists behind the chair. “I hope you’re still hard,” the message says. Dean leans back, smirking. He isn’t, not anymore. But it’s not like he can reply to the messages anyway, Cas knows that. He’d started sending them about twenty minutes ago anyway.

Charlie had come and found Dean as he was finishing up a report, telling him that Mr. Novak wanted to talk to him. She’d been smirking and rolling her shoulder suggestively making Dean blush and stand up too fast.

He’d gone and Cas had… well, prepared him. Then, just as he was about to fuck Dean over his table, Meg had called over the intercom, letting Cas know that Zachariah, sorry Mr. Adler, had called for an impromptu meeting, and that it shouldn’t take long.

Cas had groaned in frustration, which did all sorts of things to Dean’s groin, and then he’d left, promising Dean he’d be back soon.

That was an hour ago.

When Castiel had realized that the meeting would stretch out, he had started sending himself some very suggestive messages, knowing they’d pop up on the locked screen of the iPad on the table in front of Dean. Dean hadn’t looked at first, but then the mind-torturous ‘pings’ had kept coming and he had taken the liberty to lean forward to see what the hell was going on. There were seven messages from ‘My Number’. Dean had skimmed them and found himself hard and leaking again.

Despite Castiel’s efforts Dean just can’t stay hard for twenty minutes on suggestive texts alone. He just can’t.

There’s another text, this one with promises of what Castiel is going to do to him, once the meeting is adjourned. Then there’s a picture of a hard dick (presumably and hopefully Cas’) straining against the material of his suit pants. He can only see the tiny format of the preview as he can’t actually unlock the iPad, but he’s hard again.

He makes to twirl again, but stops, foot on the ground. There were footsteps outside. He heard them. He uses his foot to drag himself closer to the table instead, enough to get his lap fully underneath in case it isn’t Castiel. And based on the silhouette he can see through the matte glass of the office door it is not. The silhouette is much too small and narrow.

Did Castiel lock the door? Dean sends off a quick prayer that the CEO did, his shoulders hunching up with tension. What if it’s Meg or Mr. Turner, or, fuck, Mr. Adler?! Dean knows, logically, that all three should be in the same meeting that Castiel is. The tension stays.

There’s a click and Charlie's red hair and blue jacket come into view. Go figure.

“Dean! What are you doing here?”

Dean absentmindedly draws closer to the table. He hunches his shoulders higher, feeling very exposed as his button-down is unbuttoned and his pants and underwear are somewhere under the table. He can feel a flush spreading across his cheeks, “I’m just waiting for-“

“Your boooooyfriend?” she wiggles her eyebrows and grins.

Dean returns an awkward grin, “Uh, yeah.”

She steps into the office, staying close to the door still, thank god, “I just came to give him this,” she throws a report lightly onto the desk. “Should you be in his chair?”

Dean bites his lip and tries to focus on not moving his arms even a quarter of an inch, in fear that it’ll make the chain rattle, “Heh, it’s okay.”

Charlie squints and takes one step closer, then something dawns on her and Dean sucks his lower lip into his mouth in anticipation, “Dean, tell me you’re wearing pants. Tell me you’re wearing pants, _right now_!”

“Erm,” Dean coughs awkwardly. 

“Dean, are you handcuffed to that chair? Dean? Dean, tell me if you’re handcuffed to the CEO of this company’s chair.” Her laughter is barely contained. She’s a shit friend, Dean decides.

Dean finally slumps his shoulders, the short chain clanking against itself. Charlie barks a laugh, “Ha! Sorry I interrupted your weird kinky foreplay. I’ll be gone now.” She closes the door after her with a soft click and another short laugh.

Dean lets his head fall forwards with an embarrassed groan. He perks up when he hears Charlie’s, “Mr. Novak! I put the report you asked for on your desk. Have fun.”

He doesn’t hear a reply from Castiel, only his steps speeding up until he appears in the doorway, having yanked the door open. (Bad idea, too, Dean is in full view to anyone who might think to pass by in the hallway).

“Hey Mr. Novak,” Dean tries to grin with confidence, but he’s a little worried he’s upset over Charlie finding him.

“Cas,” Cas says quietly, always telling Dean to address him as such, even at work. Dean refuses. “Did Charlie-“ He walks in and finally closes the goddamn door.

“Yeah,” Dean turns around to face Cas when he walks around the desk, “It’s okay. She already knows about us, she won’t tell anyone. Not anyone at the company, anyway. She’ll no doubt tell everyone I know outside of here.”

Castiel’s eyebrows furrow in apology, “I’m sorry the meeting took so long. I promise you I wasn’t expecting it to.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just fuck me already.”

Castiel smirks, “Are you giving me orders now?” He walks closer, his knees bumping into Dean’s bent ones. He bends over Dean, resting a hand on the shoulder of the chair and leaning close to him. Dean sucks in a sharp breath that could have been Castiel’s.

“Uhm, n-no?”

Castiel smirks and sinks to his knees in-between Dean’s, “Good.” He noses into the joint of Dean’s thigh and hip, making his cock twitch. “I’ve had a trying day,” he kisses a trail down the joint, coming closer to Dean’s balls, “Wouldn’t want my own boyfriend to make it worse.”

Dean is breathing hard already and squeezes around the plug Cas had given him before leaving for his meeting, “That-that’s what I _do_ , Cas. I make your life difficult.” He wants it to be joking, but it’s hard when he’s whining like he is.

Castiel runs closed lips up Dean’s shaft, “I guess I’ll just have to punish you,” he says all conversationally, breath ghosting over Dean’s slick head. The green-eyed man whimpers. Castiel smirks and finally sucks Dean down. Dean moans low in this throat, his legs spasming next to Cas’ head.

Castiel isn’t the only one who’s had a trying day. Dean has been turned on for about two hours now, plug in his ass for one of them, and the contact is all too welcome. He’s making noises way too loud for their setting and he doesn’t even know it. Not until Castiel pops off of his cock, wiping precum and spit on the sleeve of his expensive button-down. He gets off his knees, “You’re too loud, my love.”

Dean hadn’t thought those kinds of names belonged in what they were doing. He thought Cas would be calling him ‘slut’ or ‘good boy’ or whatever. He never does. Dean is usually too high-sprung to give a fuck either way. The blue-eyed asshole has a thing for orgasm-denial. 

He watches as his boyfriend unties the tie around his neck, fingers working methodically. And by the way, how is _that_ hot? Of course, by now, he even finds those ugly ass sock suspenders hot. Jesus Christ. Castiel pulls on one side of the tie before suspending it between his fists, “Open your mouth, honey.”

Dean complies and the silky tie is put in between his teeth. Castiel walks around to Dean’s back to tie it behind his head, “It’s not too tight, is it?” 

“N-nnh,” Dean reassures. He flexes his arms, making the cuffs tighten around his wrists, subconsciously wanting to reach out to touch the man. Cas stills behind him and he tries to turn around, but Castiel steps a foot onto the foot of the chair, refraining it from twirling. His hands find Dean’s and with a click the pressure around Dean’s wrists is gone. “Wha ar ya do-ong?” He asks as well he can around the tie. 

Castiel leans in close, stubble scraping against his neck and making him clench around the plug again, “Don’t worry, baby. Stand up.”

Dean does and watches as Castiel, who is still fully clothed, which is both frustrating and making Dean sweat with excitement, walks around the chair and stops in front of Dean. 

He leans in to kiss Dean’s jaw softly and Dean’s groan is muffled. “Turn around,” Castiel says so Dean does. Castiel grabs one of Dean’s hands, pulling it to his back and Dean supplies the other one without being told to. The handcuffs are back on. “Bend over.”

Dean does. There are fingers teasing at his crack and Dean lets out a hard breath through his nose. When Castiel tugs once on the plug Dean would’ve sworn but it comes out as just a muffled sound of his voice against the tie. Then he starts pulling it slowly from his body, his other hand cupping Dean’s balls and Dean thuds his forehead onto the table. He feels too empty and he’s pretty sure his hands are twitching behind his back.He hears Cas unzip his pants. 

“You’re so good, Dean,” there’s the ripping noise of the condom being opened, “So good for me,” the click of the lube.

A few seconds pass where nothing happens. Dean almost wants to look at what the fuck Cas is doing, but that’ll only prolong the whole thing. He stays as he is.

Two slippery fingers are easily inserted into Dean and he groans, thudding his head forward onto the table again. Castiel pulls on his short hair with his other hand and leans over Dean, “You’re all open and ready for me. You want me, right? You want my hard dick in you?” he whispers roughly against Dean, stubble scratching Dean’s cheek.

Dean can only nod and moan in reply. It’s good enough for Cas, who’s been turned on for the past two hours as well. He lets go of Dean’s hair and stands back up, hands grabbing Dean’s hips. He finally, _finally_ pushes into Dean, and Dean thinks that he could probably come right the fuck now, if Cas told him to. He can hear him groan, low and guttural behind him, and when Dean starts clenching about him, he leans forward, head thudding between Dean’s shoulder blades, “ _Fuck_ , baby!”

Castiel picks up the pace and Dean tries to push back against him, but he’s honestly too far gone and his legs don’t work as they should. He twists his head to the side when it starts to complain about his position. He can see them mirrored in the night-dark full-wall window that overlooks San Diego. 

Mirror-Dean is arching his back for Castiel and his mouth is slack against the light blue tie. Mirror-Castiel’s pants have slipped down around his ankles but his shirt is still buttoned. He is holding the chain between the handcuffs with one hand and gripping Dean’s hip with the other. He lets go to push his sweaty hair back and catches Dean’s eyes in the window-mirror. He smiles softly at him and Dean closes his eyes.

He can feel Castiel yanking the chain of the handcuffs and with some effort he stands up, leaning back against Cas, who wraps an arm around his middle and mumbles encouragement in his ear. Dean doesn’t hear the words; only the tone and his eyes fall closed again, his head thudding back onto Cas’ shoulder. The other man chuckles behind him and presses a kiss to Dean’s temple, before sliding his arm down his stomach, curling it around Dean’s dick instead. It takes one single stroke and the word “Come,” whispered in his ear for Dean to release. All over the important files and reports on Cas’ table. 

He’d probably have slumped to the floor if Cas hadn’t held onto him, one hand still on his dick, the other spread out on his chest. Castiel’s rhythm stutters and then he’s coming with a broken sound of Dean’s name whispered into Dean’s hair.

They both bend over the table, breathing hard for a few minutes. Castiel stands up, his dick sliding out of Dean with the movement and he unties the tie behind Dean’s head.

“God, Cas,” Dean whispers against a blank pad of Cas’ customized stationery. He can feel Castiel bending to the floor behind him, pulling his pants with him as he stands up. Dean is free of the handcuffs a second later. Cas leads him to the chair that he pretty much just falls into, before disappearing into the bathroom with the condom. 

He returns with a damp towel that he runs down Dean’s cum-covered front and thighs. Dean murmurs something and Castiel smiles at him before leaning in to kiss his lips. Dean is too fucked out for anything more than a soft peck. 

Castiel kneels down between Dean’s bare thighs again and cups his jaw in one hand to catch his eye. Dean squints at him between tired eyes.

“It wasn’t too much was it?” He asks with worry. 

Dean feels bad for worrying him, but he honestly thinks Cas’ dick severed all contact to the nerve endings in his legs. They’re still shaking. “’Was perfect, baby,” he murmurs.

Castiel smiles and pulls Dean in for another kiss. One that Dean actually returns. “Let me take you home. I’ll make you dinner. Maybe draw you a bath?”

Castiel must mean _his_ home. Dean has no tub in which to draw a bath. He nods but then rewinds what Cas said, “It sounds good, but you can’t cook for shit.”

Castiel chuckles, “I’ll order in then.”

Dean grins, “Yeah,” he leans forwards and slowly gets out of the chair. Cas is still on the floor, face to face with Dean’s dick, “Let’s go.” 

He gets dressed while Castiel tries to save what he can of the semen-soaked papers. He reassures Dean that he has most of them digitally as well. Then he leads Dean out of the building with a hand on the small of his back. He opens the door to the passenger seat of his expensive car and Dean slides in. 

“Mr. Novak! Good evening,” someone says and Dean quickly slams the door. Like that’ll help, there’s a window in it, obviously. He considers ducking, but that’s too ridiculous.

“Ms. Milton,” Castiel sounds surprised but not worried, “Why are you still here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I thought you’d gone home after the meeting.” Dean can hear that she’s a few feet away, probably by her own car, one car down from Cas’.

“I had… Another… Meeting,” Cas mumbles. Dean can see him in the rearview mirror, walking backwards around the car, now standing right behind it. God, he’s the worst liar in the world. Dean bites a smile of affection down.

Anna is silent for a little bit and there’s a smile in her voice when she says, “It wouldn’t happen to have been with a certain green-eyed software engineer?”

Castiel is standing on the other side of the car now, probably looking at Anna over the roof of it, “Uh, we had something important to discuss.”

Anna just laughs, “I’m sure you did.” She opens the door to her car so Castiel does the same, “I can see him in the passenger seat, you know.” She gets in her car. Dean waves at her through three car windows. She waves back, smiling.

Castiel sits down next to him, a faint blush on his cheeks. 

“Sorry,” Dean offers.

He gets a dissatisfied look in return, “What are you apologizing for? Dean, she already knew.”

Dean shrugs.

“There’s nothing wrong about what we’re doing,” Castiel says and is interrupted by Dean snorting. Castiel blushes but smirks through it, “You know what I mean. There’s no rule about co-workers dating. Whether one of them is co-CEO or not. We’re fine.”

“Let’s just go home. There’s crusted semen on my underwear and I’m hungry as fuck.”

Castiel smiles, “As you wish.”

Dean looks out the window. He’s happy, with Cas, with how things are. A few people at the office know, but they’ve mostly kept it to themselves. Dean has only told Sam and Charlie. He doesn’t want people to know that the guy who got hired a month ago is sleeping with the boss. That’s just asking for drama and accusations and just fucking shitty problems all around. 

\-------

 

Dean pushes the (lavender-scented, fucking _lavender_ ) bubbles around the tub. Castiel comes back with soft towels. He’s still fully dressed.

“You’re not joining?” Dean asks. 

“Did you want me to?”

Dean rolls his eyes, “You’re stupid. What fun is a bath without company?”

Castiel smiles and starts unbuttoning his shirt for the first time that day. Fucking finally. When he’s naked he sinks into the water behind Dean. 

“So,” Dean starts, “How was your day, honey?” He collects bubbles in the circle of his arms.

Castiel releses his herd of bubbles when he entwines his fingers with Dean’s, “Good. I find that I’m surprisingly productive despite spending office hours making you come undone.”

Dean chuckles, “Yeah. I mean I finished the report, it was the one Charlie came by with, but then you made me cum on it, so it’s like two steps forwards, one back, I guess.”

“You didn’t make another copy?” Castiel’s teeth scrape Dean’s neck, soft lips pressing against it after.

“It’s in the cloud. I’ll just share it with you. Precaution for next time.”

“Uhm, okay.” Castiel lets go of one of Dean’s hands to run his own down Dean’s thigh.

“Cas?” Dean leans to the side to look at Cas over his shoulder, “You know what the cloud is, right?”

Cas blushes, “It’s an internet thing, right?”

Dean chuckles and kisses Castiel as best he can in his position, “Christ, Cas. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Now, no more talk about work. I want to enjoy my night in with my boyfriend.”

Dean smiles, “You got it.” He leans back against Cas’ chest and lets the other man card his fingers through his hair. 

They stay that way until the water starts to go cold. Then they dry off before snuggling up in Egyptian cotton sheets to eat take-out and watch Dr. Sexy, MD.


	3. Leave Him If He's Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leave him if he's married: You will win very little support for your relationship and you run the risk of his wife/girlfriend turning up at the office with a large tin of paint for your car.  
> Relationship psychotherapist Phillip Hodson says: 'It's not a crime to fancy someone but when there are families or other halves involved, you have to think of the consequences.'
> 
> (From [The Do's and Don't's of Office Romance](http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-34402/The-dos-donts-office-romance.html) by Chrissy Harris for femail.co.uk)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a tiny chapter. As redundant as the two previous ones.

Dean hits ‘enter’ to send the important email at the last minute before he rushes off towards the conference room, folders in one hand while he readjust his tie with the other. He stops briefly at the restroom to check his appearance in the mirror. This is the first time he’s going to see Castiel – Mr. Novak goddammit! – in three days! 

If you don’t count seeing his dick on Skype, anyway.

Cas has been in Indianapolis on business and Dean feels like a jilted teenager or maybe a pregnant woman, with all the sexual frustration he’d managed to muster up in only three days. 

So of course when he finally gets to see him, it’s going to be in a meeting. With people. Important people. People who are as important as Cas, but probably not as okay with Dean sinking to his knees to suck him off under the table while people present last quarter’s numbers. Probably. Fuck sake, now he’s hard.

Shielding himself with his folder he thinks intensely about Bobby in a bathing suit and when he reaches the conference room, he’s good to go. In the professional way, mind you.

Everyone is seated and everyone turns to stare when Dean tries to pull on the glass door when he’s supposed to push. He makes it through and he nods absentmindedly at the other fellow workers there, but his eyes are already fixed on Castiel. He tries not to beam but he has to bite his lower lip to refrain and he probably looks like a schoolgirl who’s just stumbled into an Ouran High School host. Ugh. 

His heart even skips a beat.

Double ugh. Or more like _sigh_.

Castiel isn’t refraining from doing anything; he just gives Dean a neutral look and a nod before twirling back around in his chair to face the room. Dean feet skip a step and he stumbles awkwardly but no one notices, thank fuck. 

“Mr. Winchester, glad you could make it,” Mr. Adler says with a smirk and Dean glances at his wristwatch. He’s not late. He lifts a corner of his mouth as acknowledgment to his comment.

He quickly sits down next to Charlie at the far end of the table, meaning he’s on the whole other side of the room from Cas. He has missed him, okay? He tries to catch his favorite CEO’s eyes, but Castiel is conferring quietly with Anna, it appears.

“Alfie, go fetch me a latte, okay? And a vanilla bean one for Mr. Novak here. Anyone else want anything?” Mr. Adler points a finger around the other people at the table but doesn’t wait for any replies, “No? Good.” Then he waves poor Alfie off.

Mr. Adler starts talking and Dean goes back to trying to catch Castiel’s eyes, and he really, honestly means to listen but he forgets, and it’s not until Charlie elbows him in the ribs (harder than she had to, excuse her) that he looks at anyone but Cas.

“What was that?” He looks to Charlie who gestures with her eyes to the front of the room where, sure enough, Mr. Adler is staring right at him, awaiting.

“Last quarter’s progress in relation to more online accessibility for the client. That ring a bell?” Mr. Adler is resting his hands on the table, waiting for him to fail.

(And it would be fair if Dean did because he hasn’t even been employed here for a quarter). 

He gets ups, gathers his folder, “Yeah, yes.” He makes it to the front of the room and Castiel _finally_ fucking looks at him. When did he become so professional anyway? Maybe Dean should take a leaf out of his book. He clears his throat and opens his folder.

He does swell.

After everyone has said their piece the meeting is adjourned, just in time for lunch. Dean stalls as he gathers up his notes and Castiel does too. While they wait for Ms. Rosen (of course it has to be her) to make her leave, Dean flips his goddamn flip phone open to check the time. It’s been two months and he still hasn’t gotten around to getting another smartphone. He’s a well-employed software engineer aka _professional computer nerd_ and he doesn’t have a smartphone. It’s gotten to a point where Dean is contemplating avoiding Sam altogether, because the gigantor keeps making fun of him. All of Dean’s colleagues do too. 

And it’s all justified.

She finally leaves, shuffling after Mr. Shurley who passes by in the hallway and who doesn’t even notice her.

Dean walks up to Cas who’s tapping away on an iPhone. 

“Hey,” Dean smiles at the side of his head. 

Castiel looks up, even offers Dean a _smile_ , how great of him, and then holds a finger up to indicate he has to finish his tapping. He finally puts it away and finishes gathering his things.

“How was your trip?” Dean walks along with him in the hallway, “I missed you.”

“It was… Fruitful.” Castiel supplies, nodding at a passing colleague, someone from HR.

“That’s good,” Dean says and wonders why it’s awkward. They slept together on the first date, why are they awkward _now_?

Just as he’s pondering what to say next Castiel stops and touches a hand to Dean’s arm, “Do you need something? I have to get back to my office.”

Dean hopes he doesn’t _look_ crestfallen. Why hasn’t his boyfriend missed him? He frowns and opens his mouth to actually ask _what the fuck_ , but luckily he’s reminded of his surroundings when he hears Mr. Devereaux complain about aliens from the break room a few doors down and he reels it back in.

“Yeah, okay. Sorry. Look, when do you finish today?” he shuffles his feet.

Castiel looks tens of thousands percent done with Dean’s incessant asking, but looks at his calendar, “I’m not sure. I have a conference call later.” Usually Dean will just go down on him while he confers with important international customers. He stares at Dean expectantly. Dean stares back for as long as he can.

“Oh. Well, give me a call?” he asks and Castiel nods and they part ways. And Dean hasn’t felt quite this shitty in a very long time.

He makes it through lunch, mostly thanks to Charlie’s rendition of the fight of Moondoor and gay fairies last weekend, and when he gets back to work after break, he’s busy enough that he doesn’t have to sulk over his keyboard or stare mournfully at bottom of his coffee mug. Well, he does the latter but only due to lack of coffee.

 

The end of the day comes fast enough and Dean’s still-recovering spirit plummets a bit when Cas still hasn’t called, texted or emailed, as well as when Dean remembers that he probably wouldn’t appreciate Dean stopping by his office. Even if he _is_ wearing a thong today. You know, special occasion. He thought so, anyway.

His finger hovers briefly over the button for the top floor but he admits defeat and presses the button for the first floor, and taps Metallica against his leg for the duration of the descent. Still not good with heights.

His intention is to just go to the parking garage and go home, but his “have a nice evening, Meg” is answered with a loud whistle from the girl.

“Yo, Winchester!” she calls across the lobby. He changes directions and walks back to her, leaning an elbow on the tall end of her desk.

“How’re ya doing?” he flashes her the Winchester smile.

“I have a question,” she leans over her part of the desk, the lowered part behind the heightened part the guests are to stay behind. She twirls her hair as she looks conspiratorially up at him.

He gestures for her to go on.

“We were a few ladies at the water cooler who were all wondering how a guy with an ass like yours could possibly be single. Then we all agreed that we didn’t actually know that you were. Even if you flirt with anything that might have a pulse,” she winks at him, because she’s a hypocrite. She doesn’t even care if the things she flirt with have a pulse or not.

“Alright. Well, sorry to disap-“ Dean is cut off by Meg raising her voice slightly to cut him off.

“So we stalked your Facebook, obviously. And saw that you _are_ in a relationship, but it doesn’t say with whom. So Talbot does a quick Google search – we even got your sophomore yearbook picture, nice Blue Steel – and we find… That you’re _married_!” she claps spread hands onto the desk and looks way too excited and Dean hurriedly looks around.

“Ssh! Shut the fuck up! What the f-! No! No, I’m not fucking married, oh my god, where did you even-“ Dean is flailing, his briefcase banging against the desk and himself and he nearly knocks himself out with it before he sets it on the floor to keep flailing.

Meg leans her chin on her shoulder to side-eye Dean, “Then who is Cassie Robinson? Said you’d been married to her since 1997.”

“I, too, am quite interested in who this Cassie Robinson, who you apparently left in _Ohio_ of all places, is,” a gravelly voice that usually makes Dean hard says behind him.

Dean turns, almost too quickly, “Huh? Ca- Mr. Novak!” 

“Do you have secret children hidden away in Ohio too?” Meg says from her spot and Dean wants to hit her over the head with his briefcase. 

“Shut up, Meg! No, I don’t.” He turns back to Cas and quickly grabs his suitcase from the floor. He doesn’t need to discuss this in front of a gossip like Meg. “Walk with me?” he taps Cas’ elbow as he passes and luckily his boss follows, quickly nodding his goodbye to Meg. 

“I’m not fucking _married_ , Cas,” he whispers as they walk into the parking garage, “Not anymore. We were young and it was a stupid mistake. We got it annulled five weeks later.” 

“You never told me you were married,” Castiel says, but now he sounds more hurt than uncaring. 

Dean stops and grabs Cas’ arm to get his attention, “Babe, I was married for _five weeks_ when I was _eighteen_. It’s a million years ago! It barely registers as a memory to me.” 

Castiel seems to contemplate Dean’s words, “Alright. I suppose I understand. Sorry I snubbed you this morning. I've missed you a lot.” 

It genuinely feels like relief washes over Dean and his knees nearly buckle with it. He’s pathetic. “God, Cas. Who says ‘snubbed’, anyway? You’re such a dork.” He pulls the other man to him, settling his chin on top of his head and allowing himself a couple of seconds where he just doesn’t _care_ if anyone sees them. Cas smells too good, like work and shampoo and love. 

He pulls back and taps his boyfriend playfully on the arm, “Never took you for one to gossip anyway!” 

“I wasn’t _gossiping_!” Castiel says, sticking his nose in the air. 

Dean skips a few steps ahead and turns around to face him, “You totally were. With Masters and Rosen and Talbot.” 

Castiel tries to glare but he can’t suppress his smile, “I just happened to overhear them while I was making coffee.” 

“Do you sign your emails ‘XOXO Gossip Girl’?” Dean’s laugh echoes in the lowest floor of the parking garage as Castiel, prestigious co-CEO and top 40 youngest billionaire in America, chases after him. 

Dean lets (lets!) Castiel catch up to him when he gets to Cas’ car, and he gets dizzy when the familiar press of his boyfriend’s body finally weighs him down against the side of the car, Cas’ tongue making its way past Dean’s teeth. 

The car alarm goes off and they figure they’re better off finishing this at home anyway. They make a necessary detour because Dean insists on giving Cas roadhead in downtown San Diego, and Castiel has to find a place to pull over to do him in the backseat that won't get them arrested. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't love it and I might delete it. I'll try and just smut up ya life next time.


	4. Chapter 4

\- _Rendezvous in the copy room? :-* ---C. Novak, co-CEO Adler-Novak Enterprises_

Dean grins at his stupid flip phone. The one Charlie has now plastered with sparkly stickers to match his 2007 aesthetic. 

\- _See you there_

He quickly types back before flipping it shut and putting it in the pocket of his jacket that’s draped over the back of his chair. He runs smack into Charlie who luckily was mostly finished with her coffee, so the stain that’s now down Dean’s chest isn’t too large.

“Where are you off to? You done with cracking that file Ms. Milton wanted you to crack?” she asks conversationally.

“Uh, restroom. I’m almost done, it’s reading right now.” He tries not to seem impatient. 

She wipes fake sweat off her forehead, “God, am I glad to hear that. I seriously need your help with this app-thing. It’s so annoying. Sleep is just a faint memory at this point.”

“Yeah, I’ll come find you in a bit, I just-“ he points to the hallway leading away from the computer nerd lair that they’re currently in.

“Great!”

Dean speedwalks away before she can ask more questions.

\----

 

Castiel is leaning against the copier, hands resting on the edge, making his button-down gape to reveal a slip of tan, smooth chest. Dean bites his lip as he enters the room, clicking the unlockable door shut behind him. “Hey there.”

“You made me wait,” Castiel lets go of the copier to meet Dean in the middle of the small room, “I run a company, you know. I don’t have all the time in the world for your delays.” He is smiling, but his focus seems to be on Dean's lips.

Dean shuffles and, when Cas circles him, turns with him at lets himself be backed up against the copier, “I’m sorry, Mr. Novak. I ran into Charlie – Ms. Bradbury, you know how she can be.”

Castiel’s fingers are undoing the knot of his tie and he walks closer to Dean, “Ssh,” he mumbles and Dean’s eyes are fixed on the pout of his lips. The tie comes off. 

Dean, eager to please, unbuckles his own belt and unzips his pants but before he can pull out his dick his movements are stilled by Cas' hands on his. Cas hooks fingers of one hand around one of Dean’s wrists and says: “Now I only have one tie and I intend to tie you up with it.” Dean supplies his other hand at that. “And I know how you have trouble keeping quiet. How do you suppose we fix this issue?”

He twists the purple tie around Dean’s wrists and secures a knot before looking back up at him, blue eyes peaking out through dark lashes, “Hm? How do we keep your mouth otherwise occupied?”

Dean isn’t slow, he knows what Cas wants so he sinks to his knees on his own accord, eyes on Cas’ the whole way down. His heartbeat is already hammering away in his chest with excitement “Abuse my mouth, Mr. Novak. Please, use my face. Make me shut up.”

Long fingers card through his hair before his thumb comes to rest against Dean’s plump lower lip, “You’ve got the right idea, Mr. Winchester.” He presses his thumb slightly against Dean’s soft lip and the engineer spreads them, darts his tongue over the tip of Cas’ thumb before sucking it into his mouth.

Castiel draws his hand back to undo his belt and pants, and then Dean is face to face with his cock, which springs free, already rock hard. Dean’s mouth waters and he opens up, eyes on Cas’ face the whole time, as he leans in and takes him into his mouth.

He starts with the plump and purple head, closing his lips around it and running the tip of his tongue over the slit. He twirls it around and makes his way down the shaft, sucking on his way back up. One of Castiel’s hands grip Dean’s short strands of hair, pulling and creating tension in a delicious way.

“So good, Mr. Winchester, keep going,” he murmurs, eyes hooded and still of Dean. Dean sinks lower, the tip of Cas’ dick pushing against the back of his throat. He stills and closes his eyes. That makes Castiel tighten the grip on his hair, so Dean breathes slowly through his nose as he inches the dick further down his throat. He spent a while during his teenage years perfecting the art of deepthroating. He’s glad for it. Judging from the sigh Castiel lets out above him, he is too. 

With his nose nestled in the coarse curls on Castiel’s lower abdomen Dean exhales through his nostrils, swallows once and pulls back slowly, dragging his tongue along the vein. He does the same thing just as slowly a few times before his throat is relaxed enough for Dean to speed up, and he moans loudly in the back of the throat when Castiel starts pushing against the back of his head. 

It’s the wrong thing to do because Castiel pulls back and Dean nearly falls forwards when he tries to follow the dick, wanting it back in his mouth. His fingers twitch to touch his own cock that's straining painfully against his underwear, but Cas hasn’t said he could.

Castiel pulls Dean’s head back by his hair, his pupils are blown but it doesn’t take away from his air of authority, “What did I say about making any sound?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Novak, it won’t happen again. Please-“ he is cut off, Castiel bending down a little for effect.

“No, it won’t. I’ll make sure your mouth is too occupied,” he smirks at Dean and Dean feels his eyes roll a little towards the back of his head at the words. He wants friction on his cock. He wants Cas’ cock in his mouth.

“Open up. Wide,” Castiel says. Dean complies. The tip of Cas’ dick is in his mouth when he asks, “You want me to fuck your face?”

Dean really has to refrain from moaning. His eyes flutter closed, “ _Yes_!” he whispers against his cock. The cock is pulled back out.

“Yes what?” 

“Yes, please! Please fuck my mouth, Mr. Novak!” he’s too focused on Castiel's cock, the scent and the feel of it against his lips to notice how broken his voice comes out.

Castiel doesn’t say anything else, just holds onto Dean’s head with both hands and starts thrusting into the wetness of his mouth. Saliva and precum is running down Dean’s chin and he loves it. He doesn’t pay attention to the way he has started thrusting into air, searching for nonexistent friction against his cock. 

“Touch yourself, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel murmurs above him, mostly to the ceiling as his head is tipped back.

Dean struggles to pull his dick out of his underwear and he clumsily wraps a hand around it. The other hand, tied to the first one, twitches in the air, makes the angle awkward but Dean doesn't even think to care.

He whimpers around the dick that’s pressed down his throat and it makes it twitch. Dean curls his tongue against the vein underneath and would’ve smirked at the way it made Cas’ hips stutter if his mouth had been free for him to do so.

“You’re so good, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna come down your throat. You’re gonna swallow all of it for me,” Castiel says, almost conversationally despite the hitches of his breath. 

The mention of cum has Dean eager and he closes his lips tighter around Castiel, swallows and works his throat against it, until Castiel stills, hands tightening in Dean’s hair and he spills down his throat. He keeps thrusting shallowly and Dean keeps working to swallow all of it. A few drops run down his chin. 

Castiel looks down on Dean, eyes hooded and says so quietly that he nearly just mouths it, “Come.”

Dean does. All over the carpeted floor, Castiel’s fancy and expensive shoes, and even the end of the tie dangling from his wrists. He moans around Cas’ dick that’s still in his mouth.

Castiel pulls it out, wincing as the cold air hits sensitive skin and tugs it back in. He looks down at Dean, a soft smile now playing at his lips. He looks all affectionate now and if Dean wasn’t too blissed out to think about it, he’d feel a little embarrassed about his own appearance. 

He has cum trailing down his chin, a few drops probably having made their way to the coffee-stained chest of his button-down. His dick is still out, soft now and his hands are hanging loosely in the tie. He’s still on his knees too, too tired to make any attempt at standing up. He’s sure they’d cramp up from being in this position for so long anyway.

Castiel must realize the same thing, because he drops down, hunching to Dean’s level. He wipes a thumb through the semen at the bottom of Dean’s chin before leaning in and licking it off, pressing kisses to his lover’s face. 

Dean leans back enough to sit on his ass instead and Castiel accompanies him. Dean gets properly dressed again, and then pulls Castiel towards him by a hold on his shirt, kissing him languidly, tongues teasing each other.

“That was amazing,” Castiel sighs, pulling Dean’s joined hands to him to untie him.

“Mmh,” Dean mumbles, “Came on your tie. ‘N shoes. Sorry 'bout that.”

The sides of Castiel’s mouth turn up in a teasing smile, “Don’t apologize for that.”

Dean shrugs and they finally get back on their feet. Castiel redoes his tie, tries to comb his fingers through his hair but it’s a futile attempt. Dean tells him as much and earns a pinch on his ass for it.

“See you tonight?” Castiel asks from the doorway where they split.

“Yeah, 7 pm!” Dean promises and they part ways.

 

\-----

 

“Where the hell have you been? You said you were going to the restroom but you’ve been gone for half an hour! And why are your lips swollen?” Charlie asks, leaning against the opening of Dean’s cubicle/doorless half-office.

Dean drags the decoded file to the cloud and exits the program before rising from his chair, “Shut up. You wanna take a look at that app or what?”


End file.
